Time Only Knows
by Lujayn
Summary: Something dark and dangerous is hunting Sam. Something that only Sam can see. Dean vows to protect Sam even if he won't talk. Hurt!Sam and protective!Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I've been trying to claw my way out of a terrible writer's block and this story is what I came up with. Huge thanks to Soncnica and epex for their support and encouragement. You guys are awesome! Title is from a song in Prince of Persia: Sands of Time game. I hope you enjoy it:)

Disclaimer: Don't own them.

**Time Only Knows**

Chapter One

Trepidation had finally pitched camp in the pit of his stomach. No matter how hard Dean tried to shake it, that sense of foreboding, that feeling that something was not right with Sam persisted relentlessly. Dean pressed the accelerator and the Impala revved up. His big brother spidey senses were on full alert and he wasn't going to ignore them any longer.

"I know, baby. I shouldn't have left Sasquatch alone," Dean said as he patted the dashboard.

The car seemed to agree with him as it sped along the road, gleaming in the early morning light. Dean made it to the motel in record time. He pushed the door of their motel room open, trying to calm his nerves by talking.

"I bet you're asleep Sammy, drooling all over your gangly self…holy crap!"

He stared at his brother, shock registering on his face, his heart pounding in his ribcage. Sam was sitting on the cold floor, knees close to his chest, muttering to himself, his face a mask of pain and terror, his hands covering his ears and his body was trembling as if he was so cold.

"Stop…stop…just stop," Sam mumbled.

"Sammy?" Dean called as he gingerly stepped closer to him, the bag containing their breakfast slipping from his fingers.

_Damn it! I shouldn't have left him alone._

"Sam are you okay?"

_Stupid, stupid! Of course he's not okay._

Sam did not seem to notice him at all. His eyes were focused on a point on the opposite yellow wallpapered wall. It was as if he was seeing and hearing something that Dean could not.

"No…stop. No, no, no, no…"

Sam was frantically backing away, face eloquent with fear and agony and Dean couldn't take it any longer. Something was hurting his baby brother and he hated it. Most of all, he hated the sound of utter panic in Sammy's voice, the look of anguish and suffering in his brother's face and the fear in those hazel eyes. He rushed to Sam, shielding him from whatever Sam was looking at and gently shook his shoulders. There was heat coming off of Sam in waves. Globules of sweat covered his ashen face, his hair sticking to his forehead.

"Sammy."

"Listen to me, Sammy. Sam?"

"No…no…no, no…"

Sam shook his head, the litany of 'no' barely audible. He hastily stood up and tried to get away from Dean's grip.

"It's okay, Sammy. I gotcha. It's okay, I'm here, dude. It's okay."

For the briefest second, he saw recognition settle in Sam's hazel eyes, he heard him calling his name and then Sam swayed precariously and his head wobbled and then all he could see was a mop of brown hair as he held on to him.

"Sam! SAMMY!"

**Two Days Earlier**

The twinkling stars watched him silently; pinpricks of light that blanketed the inky sky and the orb-like moon bathed the parking lot in its tantalising glow. Sam sat on the hood of the Impala gazing at the trees beyond the deserted road, listening to the incessant chirping of the crickets. It was quite peaceful out there.

There were times when the overburdening guilt of knowing that his brother was going to the pit for him, left him feeling cold, drained, desperate and when the trickster forced him to watch Dean die over and over again, he felt like he would go mad. Dean did not deserve to go to hell. Dean who was now sleeping in their motel room was selfless, caring. He put family first over himself. He put Sam first over himself. Dean can't die. Sam would not be able to bear it.

A soft breeze wafted to him and for a moment it soothed away the whirlpool of thoughts that had been lurking in his mind. He took a deep breathe and smelled the scent of fresh grass in the air.

"I'll save you Dean, I promise."

The trees whispered amongst themselves as if they knew what he was about to do. His hazel eyes moved to the object that lay on his palm. A beacon of hope that freed him from the shackles of hopelessness, from knowing that it was his fault if Dean went to hell. It was an ancient gold locket the size of a pocket watch. Aztec symbols were etched on the artefact forming a circle and at the centre, four coloured petals that represented the cardinal points were engraved on it. Black for north, blue for south, red for east and white for west. That was the object that would change Dean's fate. The locket had the power to turn back time, to undo a chain of events. One could only use its power once. Sam held the locket to his ear. It was faintly ticking like a clock, ticking together with the beat of his heart. Once was enough for him. He was going to use it to save Dean.

He stood up, took a penknife out of his jeans pocket and slit his thumb. He moved his thumb over the circle of Aztec symbols on the locket in a clockwise direction. Three times he did that and then he watched as his blood seeped through the symbols before it disappeared as if it was sucked dry. The ritual was complete. All that was left was his wish.

Clasping the locket tight in his hands, Sam whispered, "I wish I didn't die in Cold Oak…"

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thanks so much to everyone that reviewed, favourited, alerted and read this story:D

Chapter Two

As soon as the wish was out of his lips, flashes of white light pulsed from the symbols on the locket. The ticking grew faster and louder and the locket glowed brightly. Trails of light radiated from the locket, twirling around his feet, his legs and then his chest. Sam watched mutely, fascinated by the streaks of light intertwining around him, shrouding him in a glowing white cocoon.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Not once did the ticking waver.

* * *

"Damn it!"

Dean tossed the covers and lazily dragged his feet out of the bed. He reached for his phone on the nightstand. _Great. _His body needed a pee at freak'n two thirty in the morning. By the light of the phone, his eyes moved to Sam's bed to check up on him; something that he always did whenever he was jolted out of sleep since Sammy was little. This time however, there was no Sam.

"Sam?"

No reply.

He fumbled for the light switch, green eyes quickly taking in the crappy motel room. There was no sliver of light under the toilet door. He knocked once before pushing it open. No Sam in there either. Dean highly doubted Sam was crazy enough to go for a walk at this hour. He took his phone and dialled Sam's number, the panic inside him rising to a crescendo when the call reached voicemail. Within seconds he was dressed and out of the room, taking two steps at a time on the stairs.

_Calm down, dude._

Maybe Sam was crazy enough to go for a walk in the dead of the night or maybe he went for a beer. His mind did not think so. Sam would have left him a note and his phone would not be off. Circling the motel, he headed for the parking lot hoping that Sam was with the Impala.

"What the hell?"

Sure enough Sam was with his baby, except Sam was literally glowing.

"Sam!"

Dean ran, never taking his eyes off of his brother when he suddenly collided with an invisible force a few feet from Sam. Whatever had Sam was blocking Dean from him.

"Damn it! Sam!"

That was it. He was going to hit the force until it broke.

"Argh! You are so going down."

Dean banged on the invisible wall in frustration. He needed to get to Sam, he had to, but no matter how hard he tried to hit the wall, nothing happened. It was like an impregnable fortress. His voice was being muffled by a hissing noise coming from Sam's direction. Helices of light had coiled around Sam, creeping towards his neck. He wondered why Sam was not fighting the light thing.

_What the hell happened here?_

"Sam!"

Finally, Sam noticed him and he saw him mouthing his name. He was seriously considering taking out his gun and shoot the damn wall when the light completely covered Sam's head.

"No! Sam!"

He couldn't see Sam anymore. All he could see was the blinding white light that blazed brighter and brighter until he was forced to close his eyes.

* * *

Sam woke up feeling disoriented. He was sprawled on the ground, little blades of grass scratching his cheeks. The last thing he remembered was Dean calling him, panic written all over his face, the streaks of light cocooning him, the ticking turning into hissing and the white light blinding him before he fell into oblivion. He must have journeyed back through time. Where was he? Green-blue eyes roamed over the surrounding. Dilapidated houses, empty street, chilly wind, lifeless trees. This was Cold Oak. What was more surprising was the figure of a man approaching him.

_Jake._

Memories rushed to him. He remembered this. This was the fight that ended with Jake plunging a knife into his back, this was the place where he died and then came back to life. Jake drew near to him, but he knew what he had to do.

_Can't lose._

Adrenaline surged through his body. Three powerful kicks met with Jake's shin, knee and groin. Jake was momentarily stunned and that gave him enough time to get up. Sam saw it coming this time-the deadly punch that would have caused him a broken shoulder. He neatly dodged and swung his clenched fist at Jake's face. There was a crunch as his fist met with Jake's nose. Sam punched him in the face once more and thumped him in the stomach. Jake doubled over in pain.

A sharp pain sliced through his right knee and he stumbled. Jake dived for something on the muddy ground and Sam pounced to stop him, his knee throbbing with pain. Jake swerved and thrust at Sam with the rusty knife and Sam's instincts took over. He jumped back, the tip of the blade slashing across his chest. Sam gnashed his teeth and hissed when his feet landed on the ground. The motion fanned the fire burning in his knee. His leg nearly gave way. The cut on his chest wasn't deep enough. If he hadn't jumped back, he would have been dead.

They circled each other like wolves ready to strike. Tension enveloped the air. Jake moved fluidly, a menacing smile flitting over his face. Sam eyed him cautiously, raw determination gleaming in his eyes.

_Can't lose._

Jake gave a harsh laugh.

"You can't win," he mocked.

Jake was clearly underestimating him, revelling in his strength abilities and the fact that he was injured. _Good. _Let him think that he had all the cards.

"Watch me," Sam replied.

Jake attacked, the knife whizzing past the air with a whooshing sound and Sam ducked. He had anticipated that move. Like a professional street fighter, Sam kicked Jake's shin with his good leg, clenched his fist and swung at Jake's face, sending him reeling backwards. Sam grabbed at Jake's wrist and twisted, the knife slipping from his fingers and landing on the ground with a thud and then swiftly, his kick connected with Jake's stomach. The impact threw Jake to the ground. A low moan escaped from Jake's lips before he fell unconscious.

Sam picked up the knife, chest heaving, trails of sweat cascading down his face, hovering over his neck, tickling his chest and finally mingling with the crimson blood seeping from the cut. Sam raised the knife and stepped closer to Jake, mud squelching beneath his boots and then it hit him. What was he going to do? Kill Jake? The man who would have stabbed him to death without as much as a blink? The adrenaline surge slowly began ebbing away. No. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill that man. Jake was human. Sure, he had demon blood running in his veins just like he did. Nonetheless, he was human. Sam lowered the knife and sighed.

He felt exhausted. Pain slit across his knee as if a thousand blades were hacking and slashing at the injured muscles. The wind howled like a rabid dog: the only sound that echoed in the haunted town.

"Sammy!"

His throat felt dry and the world started spinning.

"Dean?"

He heard footsteps approaching. He was tired, so tired…

"Sam?"

Just as he was about to face Dean and Bobby, a clear voice broke the silence.

"Howdy, boys."

**A/N: **I actually role-played with my little brother when I was planning the fight scenes. I know, totally geeky but we had so much fun;) Anyway, please let me know what you think:)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks again to all the reviews:) They inspired me to write this chapter. Well, here is chapter three! It's a little bit longer. I hope you enjoy it;)

Chapter Three

Seven seconds, that's all it took for Dean to scrutinize his injuries, make conclusions and no doubt come up with solutions. Green eyes roved from his feet to his head, hovering over his right leg, pausing at the encroaching stain of blood on his shirt and finally meeting his own green-blue ones.

_You okay?_

Sam stared at his brother. This was Dean from several months ago, his soul intact and unsold. Sam had changed the course of time. The Dean from his present no longer existed because all the memories, all the things they had gone through, had not come to pass. This was his Dean now.

He barely nodded, the motion imperceptible enough to anyone else but Dean.

_Yeah._

The unflappable stare he received told him that Dean did not think so. Seven seconds is all it took and then Dean directed his gaze to the detestable thing that had caused them so much pain and sorrow, so many nightmares.

"You," Dean growled, the simple word evoking enough hate to send any sane person scramming.

"Good to see you too, Dean," the demon smirked, yellow eyes flashing with malice.

The demon waved his hand at Bobby. The old man was thrown into the air before he fell to the ground with an 'oomph!', his body lying motionless.

"That's better."

"You bastard! What the hell did you do that for?" Dean yelled.

"Manners, kid," Yellow Eyes chastised.

Dean lost his temper and attacked. His body instantly went rigid and immobile, as if there were invisible ropes curling around him tightly.

"Feisty aren't we, Dean? Just sit tight and wait your turn, boy."

Dean cussed.

"Now, let's get to business," Yellow Eyes drawled, completely unfazed by their animosity. "Well, finish him Sam. Kill Jake."

Sam tossed him a contemptuous look, jaws clenching, fists folding, teeth grinding, scalding anger boiling inside him like a raging volcano. The ache in his leg and chest became a dull throbbing, but the pain in his heart, the bitterness inside, tore its way form the deepest corners of his heart and resurfaced, rekindled. It was the yellow-eyed demon that had denied him a loving mother; it was him who killed his sweet innocent Jess. Now he was commanding him to taint his soul, to tarnish his hands with human blood?

"No."

"Don't be shy, boy. Do it," the demon replied, his thin lips curling into a mocking smile.

"I said, _no!_" Sam countered, a tinge of anger betraying his voice.

"Sorry, Chuckles. When Sammy says 'no' he means it," Dean intervened.

The demon tut-tutted and sighed impatiently. With a flick of his hand, Jake's unconscious body was flung to a nearby broken fence, a jagged wooden pole impaling him, the splintered end of the pole jutting out from his back, blood spilling down in a steady flow. Jake was dead.

"Dammit!" Sam cussed angrily.

"I just did you a favour, Sam," Yellow Eyes sneered, lips curling into a cruel smile. "Well, congratulations, kid. You're the winner of this beauty pageant, the last man standing. All you've gotta do is one little thing and then all of this will be over."

Sam gave him a disgusted look.

"I won't. Whatever you ask, I won't do it," he said fiercely.

The demon waved his hand in a dismissive way, as if he was merely swatting away a persistent bug.

"But you will, Sam. I'll make sure of it."

Dean struggled against the invisible ropes with renewed rage.

"You lay a finger on Sammy and I'll kill you, you yellow-eyed freak!" he spat.

The demon cackled, the sound reverberating around the lifeless trees, the uninhabited houses.

"Dean, you think I don't know you? You're nothing but a self-sacrificing, self-loathing pathetic excuse of a man. You can't purge that guilt you feel Dean, because that's right. Deep down, you know it's your fault that daddy's gone to Hell."

The demon's words hit Dean like a punch in the gut, like a serpent biting and lashing and spitting venom at him. Anger and sadness tugged at Sam's heart-anger for the demon for insulting his brother and sadness for Dean because he knew that this Dean was still grieving the death of their father, still mourning.

"Don't talk to my boys like that, you demonic moron!" Bobby threatened as he got to his feet.

Somehow, he had woken up without getting noticed. Sam felt a swell of pride as he gave the old man an acknowledging look. Dean must have felt it too because he saw a flicker of a smile on his face.

"Touché."

Sam never saw it coming. White hot pain suddenly snaked its way across his brain, tearing its way through his body, scalding his blood vessels like acid corroding metal. A yelp of pain ripped itself from his throat. He clamped his eyes shut, the agony bringing him to his knees, the demon's hollow laughter exacerbating the excruciating pain.

"Sam!"

His vision dimmed, darkness creeping upon the edges, mud slipping beneath his calloused fingers.

"It hurts, doesn't it, boy?"

He felt like he was falling, falling down into an abyss of despair…

"You sonuvabitch! Leave Sammy alone."

The yellow-eyed demon's laughter, Dean's cries, the howling wind, turned into a distant echo, a plethora of unrecognizable sound.

"Stop it! Leave my brother alone!"

Slowly, the darkness swallowed him.

* * *

Something warm was splattering down his face, something warm and velvety. Sam opened his eyes. Petals of red swooped down on his forehead, little drops of blood trickling down his cheeks, leaving parallel trails of red tears on his face. Sam jerked his head up.

_No…_

Jess was plastered on the ceiling, her white dress dripping with blood, eyes staring accusingly at Sam…

_No… it can't be._

Yellow flames burst forth from her body, heat consuming her, licking away the blood that was still dripping. Sam watched in horror, unable to look away, unable to turn away from Jess. The flames writhed angrily, the fire burning her hair…moving to her face…and then her face transformed into that of his mother…

He blinked, tears brimming in his eyes. It felt real, too real. It was like reliving his worst nightmares. He tried to force his thoughts into believing that it wasn't real, that it was the demon playing with his mind, but he failed. The heat intensified, sweat drenching him, hot air smothering him. The deep wounds began untying themselves, wounds buried deep in his chest, wounds that were barely healed. He killed them… his mum and Jess…_he _killed them…

The horrific scene changed, like fading ripples on the surface of water. Sam found himself in a dimly lit room, kneeling before a man sprawled on the cold floor. He gasped at the man's jacket torn to shreds, the shirt bloody and tattered, the raw gashes curved on his chest, gashes that had been clawed by Hellhounds…

_Oh God! Dean!_

It felt real. When his hands clamped on his brother's shoulders, shaking him, begging him to wake up, it felt real. How? How could this happen? How could he fail to save Dean?

He was alone; alone and broken. Broken like shards of glass shattered into minute pieces that could never be repaired. All the people that love him and cared for him ended up dead. His mum…Dean…Jess…even his dad…

* * *

Dean didn't know or care how he managed to wrench free from the invisible ropes binding him. In that instant that the broken sobs coming out of Sam reached his ears, he broke free. It was a knee-jerk reaction. Sam needed him, his brother was in pain and nothing was going to stop him.

Sam was on his hands and knees, palms digging into the muddy ground, unruly hair tumbling into his eyes, body shaking with each sob. Dean dropped to the ground beside him.

"Wake up, Sam," he said, shaking him.

Sam wasn't responding.

"Come on, Sammy. Snap out of it!"

Dean tugged at the sleeves of his shirt.

"Sammy, please snap out of it."

Panic welled up inside him. He slid a hand over Sam's shoulders and pulled him close.

"Listen to me Sam, wake up, man. Please wake up Sammy…"

**SPN**

Sam felt like he was drowning in grief; he was in an endless pitch black tunnel with suffocating walls of grief. There was no light in the tunnel, no end to it. Like a blind man, he stumbled, he groped in the darkness. The walls felt like they were moving, breathing, squeezing him.

"Wake up, Sam."

_Dean?_

It sounded so faint, so far away… Maybe it was just a figment of his imagination, his way of coping with his inner turmoil.

"Come on, Sammy. Snap out of it!"

This time it was tenacious. He felt a glimmer of hope. The sound emanated from way ahead of him where there was now a faint glow. He trudged forward, clinging to his brother's voice, his pillar of hope, his steady rock in a stormy ocean.

"…wake up, man. Please wake up, Sammy…"

He wanted to scream 'I'm coming!' but his throat felt dry and constricted. The tunnel seemed to be narrowing, like it was trying to prevent him from reaching the light. In hushed breaths he stumbled ahead, praying that the walls would not collapse on him.

"You wake up right now, dammit!"

Dean's voice sounded urgent, with a pang of panic swirling within. As he neared the glowing light, Dean's voice pulled him, urging him to hurry, the gap between the walls closing…he welcomed the light in a warm embrace…

**SPN**

The sound of gunshot pierced through the air. Bobby was firing rocksalt at the demon, distracting his attention from Sammy and him.

"Come on, Sam. Wake up!"

They didn't have much time. Dean needed to wake Sam up before Yellow Eyes turned back to them. There was a loud hissing sound accompanied by a cry of pain. Bobby was splashing holy water at the demon. That wise old man had geared up for everything: ghosts, demons, crazy humans…

"You wake up right now, dammit!" Dean yelled, his tone wreathed in fear and panic.

He was vaguely aware of Bobby chanting an exorcism when Sam gave a loud strangled gasp. Sam choked for air, the sheer effort making his hands and knees sag, unable to support his weight. Dean helped him to a sitting position, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Take it easy, Sammy."

Sam's breathing evened out, eyelids fluttering open.

"D-Dean?" he stuttered, voice hoarse, eyes glazed with surprise and then recognition.

Relief washed over Dean. He smiled.

"Yeah, it's me bro. Are you okay?"

Sam hesitated then nodded.

"I am now," Sam replied, a weak smile forming on his lips.

Sam was eyeing him as if he couldn't believe that he was really there, as if any minute now he was going to disappear into thin air.

_Just what the hell did that yellow-eyed freak do to Sammy?_ He pondered.

Clap!

Clap!

Clap!

Yellow Eyes clapped mockingly.

"Had fun, champion boy? Did you enjoy those pretty little nightmares?"

_Bobby!_

The demon followed the line of Dean's gaze. Bobby was immobilized by the same spell that had struck Dean. He stood stiffly, mouth clamped shut.

"Him?" Yellow Eyes gestured, "That pesky ole man won't bother us anymore."

Dean swore loudly.

The demon chuckled.

"How 'bout we go for round two, Sam? Maybe," he pointed at Dean and Bobby, "give these two fools a lil' dose of pain… you know, I've got plenty more-"

Yellow Eyes unexpectedly frowned.

"What the-"

Shock crossed over his face, yellow eyes dilating with astonishment and then the strangest thing happened. The demon writhed in pain, mouth forced open, thick black smoke billowing out before vanishing into the night sky...

**SPN**

The drone of the Impala was soothing. It lulled him to sleep. Dawn was approaching. The sky had lighted up, patches of indigo, red and yellow blending in smoothly, colouring it in a wonderful display. Sam felt his eyes drooping. He was home… Hard as it may be to believe, he had journeyed back through time, escaped from the yellow-eyed demon mostly unscathed and Dean was deal-free.

"Sammy?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

Dean must be worried about him, probably thinking he was passing out. He could see dark circles under Dean's eyes, he could see worry creasing his haggard-looking face. Hell, Dean must have been worried sick the whole day, looking all over for him, forced to watch him get tortured by Yellow Eyes…

"I'm fine, Dean."

Dean nodded, eyes focused on the tail lights of Bobby's car ahead of them.

"So, who sent that sonuvabitch packing?" Dean asked curiously.

"I don't know."

"Bobby swears it wasn't him."

"Yeah."

Dean sighed wearily.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, "What's important is that you're okay."

Sam was left speechless. Dean was pretty shaken up too, but he wasn't worried about himself. He was worried about him. He didn't know how to thank him enough, didn't know what to say…

"Get some rest, college boy. Wouldn't want that geeky head of yours bashing into the dashboard."

Sam smiled and then complied.

**A/N:** So, what do you think? Please let me know;)


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